


Merry Freaking Christmas

by AngeloftheOdd



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8902387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeloftheOdd/pseuds/AngeloftheOdd
Summary: Harvey Bullock really hates the holidays.





	

Harvey Bullock despised Christmas. As far as he was concerned, all that the seasonal cheer led to was more paperwork. It was the same every year. He'd be forced to talk some poor bastard down off a ledge (because apparently the message of It's A Wonderful Life didn't get through to some people). Or worse, he'd arrive too late and was treated to the world's most morbid snow angel. Then there was the constant stream of holiday shoppers brought down to the precinct, black-eyed and bloody-nosed after a fight over who got the last toy which was all the craze for their spoiled brat. Harvey had given the gift of an assault charge far more times than he cared to count. But the worst, the absolute worst, was when the GCPD itself tried to get into the festive mood.

Last year, he and Nygma had been chosen as each other's Secret Santas. The skinny geek had given him a book of crossword puzzles to "help expand his vocabulary". Nygma's vocabulary had probably been expanded somewhat itself when Harvey had returned the favor by gifting him a stale danish that had been sitting on his desk for three days. His superiors had finally taken the hint and not asked him to participate again.  
Being one of the few who had no family, or even a steady girlfriend, also meant he was the one stuck working on Christmas Eve. Every year they lured him in with the promise of over-time and holiday pay and every year his wallet saw none of it. He compensated by being as drunk as possible while still being able to function. It was a delicate balance he was ashamed to admit he had mastered ages ago.  
  
It was well past midnight when he finally began his walk home. The streets were eerily quiet. Even the criminal scum had the night off and someone to spend it with. Gotham looked like a ghost town. Fresh snow blanketed the city, making it look clean. Almost pure. That would only last until the morning rush. Soon, it would be unidentifiable brown slush. There was a metaphor to be found in that he bitterly thought.  
  
Sure, he could go down to the local bar and party it up with some of the other cops but honestly, only stupid people got wasted with those they had to face at work the next morning. He'd learned that lesson the hard way during his younger days on the force. He'd woken up with shredded knuckles, a split lip and a dim recollection that the type of men on the force drinking at Christmas were the kind to grope their waitress rather than tip her.  
  
By the time he'd reached his apartment building, he could barely feel his face. The walkway hadn't been salted or shoveled and he nearly lost his footing. Yeah, blame it one the ice, not the whiskey he'd been steadily pouring back since noon. He made his way to the third floor, fumbled with the key for a moment and finally was home sweet home. He probably should have spent the night at his desk but that would just raise some awkward questions in the morning and he really hated seeing Jim look at him with pity in his eyes. He kicked off his boots and tossed his coat and hat on the couch that also doubled as his bed.  
  
Harvey had quit smoking over a decade ago, figuring it would only add to the stress and bad diet that was already killing him in slow motion. Also, the landlord of this rat trap disapproved. Couldn't blame her. After all the place was a tinderbox one mishap away from being a smoldering ruin. No real Christmas trees allowed either. Ho Ho Ho. He took a cigarette from the pack he had bought earlier and lit it up. He'd toss the remaining ones in the trash by New Years. It was becoming a yearly tradition.  
  
He opened up the window and was met with a gust of frigid air. There were three seasons in Gotham; Sweating, Freezing and Rain. He watched as the blue haze from the cigarette was blown back inwards to the apartment. Oh yeah, he was going to be getting a complaint about this. He slammed the window shut and took a few more drags before tossing the butt into a flat, half-finished bottle of beer.  
  
There was a loud knock on the door. Damn. This was going to be his third warning from her this month. Last week it had been a noise complaint when he'd passed out drunk with the TV on too loud. The week prior to that was when he'd been caught feeding the stray cats outside the building. Apparently, they had a habit of defecating in the landlord's small balcony garden. He responded by waiting until the night time to put out food for them, this time twice as much.  
  
He sighed, opening the door. Instead of the expected sour face of Mrs. Nivens, Jim stood there a stupid grin plastered on his face.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Harvey asked.  
  
"You didn't think I'd let you spend Christmas Eve alone, did you partner?" Jim replied.  
  
He held up a poorly wrapped bottle of Scotch.  
  
"I brought you a present."  
  
"Jim," Harvey sighed. "You and I both know you didn't come here at this hour to play Santa. Where's the body?"  
  
"42nd and 3rd"  
  
"I'll get my hat and coat."  
  
"Merry Christmas, Harvey."  
  
"Yeah, same to you, kid."


End file.
